


Seven Darts

by TheLonelyCritic



Category: Death Parade (Anime), His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Crossover, Edward is a douchebag, F/M, Gen, One Shot, Pain Infliction, Suspense, Swearing, Trigger Warning: Miscarriage, game of darts, i write another HDM fic, literally just the first episode of death parade, thriller-esque, trigger warning: car accident, when bordem hits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25131700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLonelyCritic/pseuds/TheLonelyCritic
Summary: The pain was excruciating and she found herself wishing for the warm embrace of the man she missed so dearly whenever she parted away from him. But instead, she was alone in her pain, gasping for air in a panicked sweat.//Marisa and Edward find themselves in a strange place with a white-haired bartender at their service and he’s requesting them to play a game of darts. [summary sucks but I promise it's somewhat good]
Relationships: Edward Coulter/Marisa Coulter, Lord Asriel/Marisa Coulter, Marisa Coulter & Marisa Coulter's Daemon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Seven Darts

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically HDM plugged into the first episode of one of my favourite animes. Probably my second favourite after Death Note (the anime. I repeat, the anime. Not the Netflix monstrosity). I’ll reveal the name at the end but if you do recognise it just pretend to act surprised as you read on. I kinda tweaked a few things to fit the characters and for greater satisfaction. Quite a long read but hey, ho, let’s go! 
> 
> Also, please do read the tags if you think any trigger warnings may be applicable to you.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened revealing a dimly lit hallway. Marisa had no recollection of how she had got here and the unfamiliar space that lay in front of her, tinged with amber light that reflected off rouge walls and marble floors, brought a level of unease to her. This had to be the most peculiar place she’d ever found herself in.

But there was a shred of familiarity.

A man, who seemingly entered the hallway from what must be an elevator next to hers, walked into her view. He was calling out into the empty space, clad in a brown suit, squeaky shoes and groomed blonde hair; Marisa could recognise this man anywhere.

“Edward?” she called out as she stepped out of the lift, the doors closing behind her.

He spun to face her. “Marisa? Marisa!” he cried in relief, striding towards her and enveloping her in an unwanted embrace. “Oh thank The Authority, you’re alright. You are alright?”

“I’m fine, Edward.” Marisa groaned whilst extricating herself from his sweaty embrace, the pungent smell of Brantwijn wafting from his mouth to her nose. What had they possibly been up to tonight? “We should probably leave,” she continued. “This place can’t be any good.”

“Yes, you’re right. You must be tired.”

They called the lift and waited. And waited. But it never came. Edward’s efforts became more insistent as time dragged on, his thumb slamming into the button with anxious rapidity. 

“Stop that. You’ll break it,” she hissed.

“Like it isn’t already broken.” He made a show of kicking the closed doors only to yelp out in pain and, to Marisa’s amusement, sulk as he cradled his hurt foot. She spun on her heels and took in the hallway again, at the end more light poured in from a corner. It pulsated with rhythmic slowness as if beckoning her closer. Leaving her husband who still entertained himself with the lift button, she wandered towards the light. Once she reached the end of passage, she saw it connected to another hallway. This one lit blue and brighter.

“Edward.” He twisted his neck round to face her. “Come. I’m sure we can find a member of staff that can take us to the exit.” 

Begrudgingly, he nodded and followed her lead knowing it was the only viable option left. As they explored the grounds, it became clear that somehow they’d found themselves in a hotel. It was large, atmospheric and oriental. Several bamboo trees erupting out of nowhere the further they went and Marisa made a mental note to ask for the name of the place once she found someone to ask. She doubted Asriel would be opposed to a night here. 

Eventually they made it to an open bar and behind the bar front stood a tall, ghastly pale man with hair that effortlessly matched the shade of his skin. 

“Right this way please,” the man instructed with a deep bow. “Welcome to Quindecim. Please have a seat.”

Marisa went to walk towards the bartender but paused as her eyes fell to Edward’s arm that rested gently in front of her, stilling her movements. Her gaze lifted up to his face and observed how visibly disturbed he was by the bartender’s appearance. Granted the man looked more dead than alive with his arms that were slack by his sides and his monotone voice. But despite all this, there was no need to be so cold. She pushed past Edward and walked towards the available seats, forcing Edward to trudge behind her. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” the bartender resumed once they were seated. “My name is Decim and I will be your bartender.”

The white-haired man pulled out two drinks from below the counter and placed them in front of the pair. Brantwijn for Edward. A warm, spiced cranberry juice for her. Marisa smirked to herself. She didn’t know how but the bartender seemed to be already aware of her current state and hence had prepared something accordingly. How apropos. Marisa took tentative sips of her drink, observing if she liked it, whilst she let Edward do the talking.

“This is nice and all,” Edward started after polishing off his drink “but it seems we’ve lost our way and we’d like to be directed to the nearest exit.”

Decim gave Edward one curt, understanding nod before ignoring his statement entirely.

“You’ll most likely find this a strange question but I’m afraid I do have to ask it. Do you remember anything prior to your arrival here?”

Edward didn’t take kindly to the dismal, his lips curling in distaste but accepting he was only going to get as much as he was given, he followed the strange man’s line of questioning. 

“Now that you ask, no,” he replied, looking into his empty glass as if it were a mystic orb that could conjure images of their evening. “I can’t remember much. I remember driving but that’s about it.” He turned to her. “Marisa?”

“No. I remember much the same. I can recollect leaving the Dawson’s after New Year’s dinner and riding home with you but after that it’s blank.”

“Very good. Thank you for indulging me.” Decim said. He collected their empty glasses and went to hand them over to someone in the doorway behind, their presence obscured by the dark.

“So about that exit -” Edward began once Decim had returned but that bartender ignored him yet again.

“I will now explain some things about your current situation. This is important. Please pay close attention.” He continued without pause. “Number one, I’m afraid I can’t provide you with any further information regarding your present location. Number two, now that you are here, we should have you play a game. Number three, as for game selection that will be decided upon by roulette.” A digital gridded slide descended behind Decim giving both Marisa and Edward a start but Decim continued on unfazed. “Number four, the stakes of the game are very high. Your lives, in fact.”

“I’m sorry,” Edward interjected, “I believe you must be confused. We didn’t come here to play a game-”

“Number five. Don’t worry, this is the final one. Until the game is completed you can not leave.”

“This is ludicrous.” Edward sneered, rising from his seat. “Marisa, we’ve entertained this fool long enough. We’re leaving.” He reached out a hand to help her out of her seat but Marisa didn’t move to take it. Instead, she sighed and leaned back into the plush velvet seat, pointedly using her hand to rub circles against the mound that had grown above her stomach.

“I think I’ve done enough walking for today. Why don’t you go look for the exit and come back for me once you’ve found it.”

“Marisa, have you lost your mind.” Edward was incredulous. “Did you hear what this man just said?”

Her gaze shifted to the pale bartender. His eyes were a greyish blue, similar to those of dead fish and yet they held a gentleness to them. She doubted this Decim person could even have the guts to harm a fly.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Isn’t that right, Sir Decim?”

“Your wife will be just fine, Mr Coulter.”

Edward's mouth opened like he was about to retort before abruptly shutting it again. They’d never given this barkeep their surname so how could he possibly know? Things were just getting stranger by the minute. Edward, having relented with one last glance at his wife’s set expression, silently wandered off in search of an exit and in the meantime Marisa requested another serving of that delectable cranberry juice. 

Quarter of an hour or so later, Edward returned, dejected, red, and panting. 

“No luck?” Marisa couldn’t help the humour that slipped into her tone and she swore she saw the edges of Decim’s lips curl into a putrid grin. 

“This may seem hilarious to you Marisa but I just want to get home.” Edward reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, fingering his way through several fifties in search of smaller notes. “Okay so what is this? An amusing side hustle? How much is it going to take for you to show us the way out?”

“As I’ve explained you cannot leave the bar until the game is finished.” Decim offered all but sighing in exasperation. How he managed to stay so stoic was a mystery to Marisa.

“And if I said no?!” Edward yelled back. Compared to Asriel’s wrath, Edward looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum and, unsurprisingly, Decim remained unfazed.

“I would sincerely recommend against it,” he responded, maintaining his low voice and upright posture. At his words the shelves behind the bar front slid to the side revealing a dark room filled with silhouetted bodies hanging from the ceiling. With that, the first pang of legitimate fear this evening struck Marisa. 

“What is this place?” she whispered to no one in particular, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in her seat and futilely shifting for greater comfort. Beads of sweat started to roll down Edward’s face as he also took in the display before them. Bodies. A countless number of them. Hanging from invisible strings. It was unsettling to say the least.

Decim broke the tense silence. “As I’ve outlined in points two and four, we would like you to play a game in which the stakes are your lives. I’m afraid I can not say more than that at the moment.”

“You're a deranged... psych-no sadist.” Edward stuttered as he slowly backed away from the scene. “You’re mad.” 

“Edward, where are you going?”

His focus flashed from Decim to Marisa. “Anywhere but here, dear!”

“There’s nowhere to go. You’ve checked yourself.”

“Marisa! We’re leaving.”

“This is ridiculous, Edward! There’s no way out. Only he knows where the exit is,” she said, gesturing to the man in question. 

They might as well not have been there as during their discourse Decim had busied himself looking under the counter for something and resurfaced with a red button which he placed on the wooden top.

“If I can have you press this button please, the roulette will begin and the game will be decided.”

“Marisa, don’t you dare.” But her hand had already slid over the plastic button.

“It’s the only way,” she sighed before summoning the little embers of courage she had left in this bizarre predicament and pressed the button. The digital slide came to life, light dancing from grid square to grid square at a decreasing speed before settling on a final square. The square did a 180 degree turn to reveal the name of the game. 

Darts.

“Very well. This way please.” Decim instructed as he moved round the bar front. He led the pair to an open hall, yet again as ambiently lit as the rest of the floor, where two darts board stood at the centre and behind matching lines, a metre apart sideways, two tables with a selection of seven darts rested. 

“The rules of the game are simple. Each player starts with 501 points. Each player will take turns throwing a dart until one player reaches zero points and wins. Each player should throw their darts behind the line indicated.” Decim explained in his now familiar low voice.

Marisa glided towards what she assumed to be her table and picked up a dart to inspect. The flight was shaped as a red monkey’s head and one quick look at the darts Edward was currently toying with confirmed that his dart flight took the form of a blue hedgehog. The images seemed strangely familiar but as of now Marisa couldn’t for the life of her reason why. 

“The outer ring is worth double points and the inner, triple,” Decim continued. “A single bullseye is worth 25 points while a double is worth 50.” The barkeep paused as if already preempting what was going to happen next and hence providing the necessary silence for the moment to sink in.

The image of a heart slowly appeared at the centre of the bullseye and across the entire board a different part of the body emerged over each pie triangle. The organs and limbs pulsated on their own accord but with a familiar human beat to them and as the horror of the moment washed over both Marisa and Edward, the pulsating matched their increasingly erratic breathing.

“You’ll notice various regions of the body depicted on the boards. Those regions are linked to your respective body systems. Mr Coulter’s board linking to Mrs Coulter and Mrs Coulter’s board linking to Mr Coulter.”

A dry laugh escaped Edward and it grew raucously loud as Decim continued. 

“Where the dart hits, you will feel a corresponding pain.”

“Okay. Okay, now I know you’re taking us for fools!” Edward roared in between tight chuckles. “Probably spiked our drinks, didn’t you? Thought you could play mind games. But you see here Mr Barkeeper, my wife and I are educated people. We’ve been to grammar school and we’ve been to college. There’s no way on this beautiful green Earth that what you're saying is possible!”

Marisa thought that surely by now Edward would’ve learned that Decim paid no attention to his useless commentary but it seemed Decim’s following reply would serve as another painful reminder to the politician that here what he had to say counted for nil.

“And naturally,” Decim followed on, breezing past Edward’s outburst, “the higher the score, the greater the pain will be.” 

Marisa remained quiet as she let the new information sink in. The idea that a wooden board could somehow be linked to their body was laughable but not entirely impossible. After all, they did have witches, talking bears and -

Her mind went blank. Her train of thought abruptly cut off and no matter how hard she tried to pull what she was going to think to the forefront of her mind, her brain only felt a dull tug. There was no point, the thought was lost. 

“Marisa?” 

Her eyes focused to see Edward in front of her, her hand clasped within his and his head leaning forward, checking if she was alright. Seeing the haze had left her face, Edward leaned back.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just forgot something is all.” She smiled at him. “Are you still alright to play?”

“Marisa, are you crazy?” 

“No,” she responded. “Clearly this guy’s full of it. But even if there was pain, I doubt it would be more than a simple pinch. Why let that stop the fun?”

“You think this is fun?” he whispered incredulously, amazed by the gall of the woman in front of him. 

“Why, it’s only a game, Edward. Besides if you leave here with a limp, I’ll explain it to the King myself,” she chuckled.

“Fine.” Edward said walking back to his table. “But you promised,” he confirmed, pointing his dart at her as if it would hold her accountable. 

“Very well, the game will now begin. Mr Coulter, please start.” Decim instructed.

Edward warily picked up one of his darts and took his position behind the line. He gave Marisa a cautious look but all she did was offer him an encouraging smile before settling her gaze on his dart board. With a sigh, Edward leveled the dart and threw, aiming for the lowest scoring region between the double ring and triple ring. As the dart landed, Marisa let out a shocked yelp, clutching her shoulder through the fabric of her dress. 

“Marisa!” Edward was by her side in an instant, steadying her with his arms. 

“I’m fine, Edward.” And she was. Any painful sensation she had felt in her shoulder had dissipated as if nothing had happened.

“Are you sure, dear?” Edward questioned, not entirely convinced.

“I’m perfectly fine. It was really just the shock of it. But like I guessed, it was nothing more than a pinch,” she reassured. Swiftly moving out of his hold, she picked up a dart of her own. Edward had scored six points which brought his score down to 495. Though Marisa knew this was just a game, she had no intention of losing. Standing behind the line, she aimed her dart for the lung region - 18 points. _Sorry dear_ , she thought to herself as she let go of the dart, _no hard feelings_.

“Argh!” Edward cried, as he grabbed his chest, struggling for each strained gasp of air. He toppled over to his table, a hand reaching out for the wood to steady himself.

“Edward? Are you alright?” Marisa made no move to comfort him but she did force as much care and consideration into her voice as she could physically muster.

“Just a moment,” he wheezed. After about a minute, Edward finally stood up. His brown eyes had hardened as if only now had he realised the peril of their situation. That the pain he and his wife were feeling was real. Yet, unexplainable. He looked between his wife and Decim, who stood at the back of the hall, before quietly walking towards him.

“This pain…” he whispered to the tall man once they were out of Marisa’s earshot.

“As I’ve told you before, in this game your lives are at stake. But if you want to stop inflicting pain all you have to do is miss the targets.” Decim informed.

“Miss the targets…” Edward parroted, his words barely audible. “Yes, that makes perfect sense. I didn’t think of that.” He’d turned to return to Marisa but-

“Except of course…” Decim started and Edward turned back to face the man, “if all six of your remaining targets were to miss, this would ensure that Mrs Coulter will be the victor...”

Edward’s gaze fell unto the score boards. His at 495 and Marisa’s at 483.

“And I would lose,” Edward finished.

In a daze, he walked back to the centre. He took in his wife’s appearance, a loose-fitting, long sleeve maxi dress hanging over her small frame, perfectly obscuring what would be a seven month bump under the rich silk fabric. He couldn’t possibly inflict more pain on her, not in the state she was in. Not when she was carrying his child.

“What did he say?” Marisa asked once he stopped at her table.

The words fell out of Edward’s lips out of his own accord. “Apparently we must keep playing but we can just miss the targets. Then no one would have to feel anything and the game would end swiftly.”

“Ahh, that’s right.” Marisa’s focus flickered to the score boards and Edward mistook the glance as a display of uncertainty. He took her chin within his grasp and pulled her face to meet his again.

“Let’s not worry about that for now,” he smiled at her and she responded with a soft smile of her own. 

So for the next four pairs of darts each one missed the targets and it did feel to Edward that the game would end swiftly and he and his wife could go home, forgetting this bizarre evening for the rest of time. However, as he went to reach for his penultimate dart, a vision crashed into his mind. He saw himself in that dark room that lay behind the bar front, hanging naked from the ceiling amongst all the other decaying bodies. His eyes washed over a pale white, skin as faded as that of Decim’s. A lifeless body. And his wife was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s your turn, Edward.”

He returned to reality, his right hand wavering over his last two darts. He stilled the trembling of his hand before picking up a dart. “Yeah, I just spaced out for a sec.” He threw it and it landed on the throat region - 16 points.

Marisa's scream shattered the stillness of the hall, blood splattering out of her mouth. One hand went to her table to steady herself while the other went to cover her lips as if to stem the blood that was pouring out. But it was no use, the blood trickled through the gaps between her fingers, staining her platinum wedding band. Edward, for another time, rushed to his wife’s side.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. My hand slipped.”

“Slipped my ass.” Marisa hissed, sharply shrugging him off her and removing her hand from her lips to wipe the blood against her dress. Rage boiling over her, she pushed Edward to the side and reached for her dart, stepping before the line, aiming and throwing in one swift motion. 

Double ring, eyes, 8 points. 

Strained grunts ripped through Edward as his hands went to his face, his vision blackening as his eyes throbbed as if the dart had landed in them and not the board. “Argh, my eyes! My eyes!” He swayed back and forth before crashing into his table, bringing it down with him as he fell to the ground. There he rolled, clawing at his eyes in hopes of dragging the pitch black veil from them and returning his sight. 

“Serves you right.” Edward heard Marisa sneer and for once he was thankful he couldn’t see, lest he be greeted by that disdainful look she so often gave him. Decim had crouched down near Edward, wordlessly picking up the broken pieces of glass from the cup that had been smashed when the table fell. A few seconds later, Edward vision started to return, cloudy and pixelated at first but eventually it became refined and back to its usual sharpness. He reached for the dart that lay next to him before standing up again.

This was his last one.

His last shot.

Was there any point in being selfless and losing to a wife who wouldn’t so much as thank him for it?

The score was now 479 : 475. 

He could still win.

His dark gaze fell to Marisa but it almost immediately settled on her stomach.

That’s right. He had a child to think of.

Decim had cleared away providing Edward space to walk back towards the line. He took aim and -

* * *

“That was a good dinner, wasn’t it?”

Edward was on his way from the bathroom to rejoin the men in the garden for drinks and cigar but for an inexplicable reason he stopped at the side of the open kitchen door where Rebecca Dawson, the hostess, was arranging a snack platter for the ladies in the Drawing room with her housekeeper. 

“It was a fine dinner, ma’am,” the housekeeper assured. “But I was surprised to see Madame Coulter here today.”

“Why’s that?” Rebecca questioned, removing her eyes from the snack trays to face her servant.

“Well, I’m not one to gossip ma’am but you see my cousin helps with the dry cleaning at Lord Belacqua’s London residence and she has remarked seeing Mrs Coulter there often.”

Rebecca let out a soft laugh. “Yes but you see Betty, Marisa is an educated woman. She and Lord Belacqua are always working on some scholarly article or another.”

The housekeeper shook her head but one couldn’t be sure if it was at what her mistress had said or the disorderly arrangement of fruits on one of the trays. “Even so ma’am, my cousin told me they remain together until very late hours, often alone in his study instead of working out in the open in the living room as would be respectable. My cousin even said she once saw them…”

“Saw them, what?” Rebecca urged, having noticed that the words had stilled on her housekeeper’s tongue. “Spit it out woman!” But the housekeeper looked petrified and her eyes were set on something behind her mistress. Rebecca turned to see what it was only to be met by the enraged glare of Minister Coulter as he stood by the doorway.

* * *

He took aim and threw.

Double ring, stomach, 4 points.

“Argh!” Marisa fell to the ground, one arm wrapping around her round while the other fell to her side. But instead of touching the carpeted floor they’d been playing on, her hand sunk into red, sticky blood that soaked into the grey concrete floor. A cold gust of air took over her and her body felt soaked as it sat in a puddle of warm scarlet liquid, her face wet with tears. Promptly, she was on carpet again, the blood was gone, her face was dry and the warmth of the spacious hall returned.

“You bastard!” she howled. “Do you plan to kill our child? Is that what you want?” The pain was excruciating and she found herself wishing for the warm embrace of the man she missed so dearly whenever she parted away from him. But instead, she was alone in her pain, gasping for air in a panicked sweat.

“It wasn’t on purpose.” Edward all but mumbled.

“Yeah right. Your dart just happened to hit the double ring situated for my stomach,” she let out dryly, the pain subsiding but not fast enough. 

“It would be of no consequence to me.”

“What are you talking about, Edward?”

“Maybe the next time you say you’re doing a late night in the library you should make sure no one lives to tell the tale of your late nights at Lord Belacqua’s house,” he spat out spitefully, hate and disdain coating each and every word. 

“What are you insinuating, Edward?” Strength had finally returned to Marisa’s voice as the pain had now reduced to a dull hum.

A self-deprecating laugh left his lips. “How could I think I could be so lucky? We’d been trying for three years to no avail. Of course that child was not mine. I was just too glad or, better yet, too blind to see the truth of it all.”

“You’re wrong. I’ve been faithful!”

Edward had lifted his gaze up to stare at the chandelier that decorated the ceiling, seeing their miserable circumstance being reflected in its beautiful glass shards. “I loved you so much, I would have done anything for you.”

“And I said you’re wro-”

“Don’t you lie to me!” His eyes flashed red as he met hers again, looking down from his standing position to her slumped one on the ground. A first in their relationship; he actually felt like a dominant man, no longer servicing the whims of his wife but calling the shots.

“I’m not lying to you! It’s the truth!”

He sighed. “Oh well, it’s all over now.” He slowly walked towards her but instead of helping her up as Marisa thought he would, he went over to her table and picked up her last dart. “Tell me, bartender. These darts…” he inspected her red monkey flight as he rolled the dart between his thumb and index finger, “they have no specified target.”

“What are you doing? That dart is mine.” Marisa said as she stood up, using the table as the helping hand her husband failed to give her.

Edward ignored her, turning to face Decim. 

“Your assumption is correct, sir. As long as the dart hits a target, points will be scored.”

“Look at our scores, Marisa,” Edward continued, “we are still in four hundreds and even if we didn’t miss our targets we would have never reached zero. This game was rigged from the start, we’d have to steal from one another eventually.” Edward turned to face Marisa and grinned at the rage he saw brimming in her eyes. This was the Marisa he knew. Where had she been all night? 

“You still haven’t told us what happens to the loser.” Edward stated but more in the manner of a question than a statement.

“Nor can I tell you at the present moment.” Decim replied almost apologetically. “The current scores are tied at 475, whoever throws the last dart will win by default.”

“Rules are rules, eh?” Edward was now walking back to his own board. “Well why don’t we give mastermind Marisa a taste of defeat, huh? Maybe now you can learn how it feels to be betrayed by your spouse. You're not used to losing, are you?” He took his position behind the line and prepared his aim, hoping for a bullseye. “Maybe you’ll grow fond of the bitter taste of defeat, it shouldn’t taste that different from whatever putrid pleasure you seek in that harlot of a man.” His aim was set. “Checkmate, dear.”

“Edward.”

He turned around and stumbled back, surprised to see Marisa directly behind him. But before he could get far she slapped him across his face, the palm of her hand leaving an angry red mark across his face. She grabbed his right hand and twisted it forcing him to drop the dart into her free hand. Briskly she walked back to her line, “Checkmate, dear.”

She aimed. However, before she let go of the dart, Edward tackled her causing the dart to slip from her fingers as she threw it. In the free fall of their descent to the ground, her dart spiraling for the board, seconds were sharply divided and lengthened and what should have been instantaneous took an eternity. The only thing accompanying the long stretch of time being the rush of memories to her mind.

* * *

Rain pattered lightly against the car window, the chill of New Year's early morning cooling Marisa’s temple as she leaned against the glass. The heat from her skin caused a small patch of condensation where her forehead rested but it was worth the discomfort as she watched the London skyline flash past her. They were in the East District. Once a nasty place which had been transformed by prolific gentrifiers, such as the Dawsons, who seeped in from the countryside, into a swanky middle class region. The dinner had been fair, the food enjoyable but Marisa was almost dying under the attention she received from the Wives, all fawning over the thing growing inside her, showering her with questions and, all being mothers themselves, pushing their recommendations. She cringed at their faux consideration and the idea that she was finally becoming one of them. A mother. And if things did not change, an eventual housewife. Lord, did she wish for reprieve and there was only one place she was going to find it. 

“I’m leaving for Oxford this Friday,” she declared, still staring out the window but observing, through his glass reflection, as Edward’s countenance shifted from neutral to tense at her words.

“Oxford? This Friday?”

Why he had the tendency to repeat her words, Marisa would never know.

“Impromptu lecture by Professor Lancford.” There was no Professor Lancford. “Should be interesting.” Oh, but her time in Oxford will be _interesting_ to say the least. Ozymandias had climbed on top of the dashboard to perch himself on the ledge, not pleased with his usual position on her lap being currently invaded by a fetal impostor. He stared at Marisa with determined black eyes; he wanted this as much as her.

“Another lecture?” Edward stressed, his eyes still on the road whilst his mind clearly wondered elsewhere if the steadily increasing speed of the car was anything to go by. “Dear, don’t you think it’s enough now? You’ve written your thesis. You’ve gotten acceptance into the RAI. Isn’t that all you’ve ever wanted?”

She could hear Virginia shifting in Edward’s lap, a tell tale sign that he had more to get off his chest but what it could be was beyond Marisa.

“It’s just a lecture, dear,” she sighed, repeating his endearment in hopes of diffusing whatever repressed tension dwelled within him. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I just don’t understand why you are continually exerting yourself? Especially when you have other duties to attend to.”

Marisa startled as water splashed onto her window whilst their car sped past a puddle, the splash surely soaking the wooden bench that stood on the pavement. Resting back into her seat with a managed unfazed appearance, she turned to finally face her husband.

“Those so called duties haven’t arrived yet so I don’t see how-”

“And when they do?” His interruption left a rancid taste in her mouth. Him challenging her was most out of character. What had gotten into him? “When you give birth to our child will you still be running off to Oxford every other fortnight?”

“You’re being ridiculous, dear.”

It was as if he hadn’t even heard her. “It doesn’t even have to be Oxford, does it Marisa? I’ve heard you have some preferred spots in London too.”

At the peripheries of her narrowing gaze, Marisa could see Ozymandias saunter from her side of the dashboard towards Edward’s, slightly obscuring the view of outside for the pair of them. Yet, it took all the power within her to not free her daemon to lunge at the vile man beside her and gouge his infuriating brown eyes from his sockets.

“If you have something to say Edward, say it.”

A few silent seconds passed by and under the downpour of rain, all that could be heard was the alert breathing of four sinners.

“Who’ve you been fucking, Marisa?”

That was the only and final straw of patience Marisa had.

“Stop the car.”

She almost thought she would have to drag her daemon by the tail back to her but was relieved to see he returned on his own accord, ready to follow her lead.

“Answer the question, Marisa.”

“Slow the car down and let me out.” She reached through the gap between their seats to grab her purse. There was a payphone at the end of every street nowadays; Asriel was but a call away. However, when she moved to return back to her original position, Edward roughly grabbed her by the chin, a hand now off the steering wheel.’

“Let go of me,” she hissed, her nails digging into the flesh of his hand but it was no use. Somehow this meek man had discovered newfound strength, his grip on her chin tightening and biting into her jawbone.

“I’m no fool and I won’t be taken as one, Marisa.” His focus was shifting between her and the road, the road that now held an icy black gleam not too far off from where they were. Despite this, their speed was not reducing and though Virginia was now whistling to get her human’s attention, in his rage, Edward couldn’t seem to care less. “Asriel will not make a fool of me, Marisa. Neither of you will. Sneaking around behind my back. You thought I wouldn’t find out. How dare you-”

“Slow the car down, Edward.” Urgency was in her voice which was uncharacteristic of her but present circumstances called for it.

He was laughing now.

“What?! So you can run away to your beloved?”

“Edward, stop the car!” 

Marisa roughly pushed him, liberating herself but causing his weaker arm that still held onto the steering wheel to flail to the right resulting in the car skidding in the same direction and upon hitting the side of the pavement, losing its balance and toppling over. 

The next thing Marisa remembered was seeing the world upside down. The wet ground littered with crystal shards, the night sky reflected in these glass triangles. A soft moaning came from beside her but she ignored it as Ozymandias reached for her seat buckle, freeing her with a painful thud from her seat belt. Something felt wrong but she pushed the sensation to the back of her mind as she crawled out of the now broken window she’d once been leaning on, following the golden monkey’s lead towards a phone booth which, ironically, was illuminated by the only streetlight on this dark and empty road. By the time she reached it, her daemon had managed to open the door, providing her with dry cover from the rain that had by now soaked her maxi dress. With effort she eventually stood up, her finger hovering over the number nine button as she plucked the phone off the hook.

Then the sensation hit again. This time coupled by the drenching of her inner thighs, first a wet rush and subsequently a more slower, dreadful stream. She began shaking irrevocably, her hands dialing at an unspeakable speed a familiar number. One she’d called so often at ridiculous hours in the day. One she’d often promised herself would be the last time she dialed it and yet would find her fingertips dancing across the familiar keys again. A number she knew off by heart.

The line picked up.

“Who, may I ask, is calling?”

It was Thorold.

“Is Asriel there?” Her voice was soft, almost transparent. The need must have been dripping from her tone as the manservant silently left the line on hold. In the seconds she waited, she felt herself slowly sink to the ground floor, the cord extending with her as her weakening body gave in. The flow continued without cease. Her free hand dropped by her side into a pool of warm scarlet liquid that seeped into the concrete floor. Cold air running through the gap at the base of the booth to wash over her wet frame. Acid tears helplessly streaming down her cheeks.

“Marisa?”

His concerned voice was soothing and for the first time she took comfort in the small palm that laid on top of hers. 

“Asriel.”

“Marisa, what’s wrong?”

Did she honestly sound that bad?

“I think this is the last time I’m going to call you.”

“Why, did Edward say something?”

“He… he said a few things.” The dry humour was limp on her tongue.

“What did he do, Marisa?”

“It’s done.” Though her hand currently bathed in it, Marisa had no desire in seeing it; her eyes gazing upwards at nothing in particular. “No point in hashing over it now.”

A soft whimper escaped from Ozymandias as his grip tightened around her hand and now there was something else to fear if she were to look down. Asriel must have heard it too as his tone shifted from accusatory to restrained worry.

“Love, tell me where you are? Are you alright?”

“I’ve never been alright,” the sound that left her was so weak, cracked and breathless, “but when I was with you I felt a bit more together. Still broken, yet pleasurably so.”

“Marisa-”

“If I’d said yes,…”

She was vocally crying now and she hated it. But if the tiny sparkles of what she could only assume was Dust that scantily (yet with growing intensity) drifted from where her daemon sat to the top of the phone booth was anything to go by, these moments may very well may be her last. Surely she could afford vulnerability in these dire circumstances.

“...if I had ran away with you, would you have loved me?”

Damn Asriel and his unnecessary silences. But soon enough he let slip the answer she’d longed to hear since the day she’d met him.

“I’ve always loved you, Marisa. And I always will. That is an unchangeable fact.”

“Good,” she whispered. She should have probably followed it up with a similar affirmation but the will to live was quite literally flowing out of her and it took all her might to even hold the receiver to her ear. Her vision was now tunneling, the booth becoming darker by the second and the dust that had been floating above her started to take the shape of stars against the black canvas of the night sky. Her breathing was slowing down.

“Marisa?” 

His concern was no longer blanketed.

“The stars... look beautiful tonight.”

“Where are-”

“I can see Vega... and the... constellation... she inhabits.”

“Please, Marisa, tell me where you are?”

_I think Lyra would have been a nice name._

* * *

Double bullseye, heart, 50 points.

Blood sputtered from Edward’s mouth as he fell to the floor grasping at his chest. Marisa, on the other hand, lay entranced on all fours, staring at her bump. A dead name echoed from her.

“Lyra?”

A soft applause pierced into the hall. “Congratulations, Mrs Coulter. The scores are 425 to 475, you’ve won. And with that the game is officially over. If you would just follow me.” Decim’s arm stretched in the direction of the hallway that led to the bar. 

Edward, seemingly recovered, hoisted himself from the ground. “Just a minute,” his feet were staggering to and fro as he edged for his board. “One more throw. One more throw.”

Having stared at her motionless mound for long enough, Marisa let out a cold sigh. “There’s no point.” Her voice, frigid.

“What do you mean? I can still win.” She could see his leg drag in front of her, the pain of the last blow clearly not having dissipated even with all his effort.

“Stop, Edward.”

And he did, turning round to face her. His face awash with confusion as if he’d heard those words not so long ago.

“I-” he started but this time she interrupted him.

“Bartender,” she called, finally standing up.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We’re dead, aren’t we?”

“Yes. I’m afraid you’ve departed the living world.”

“Huh?” Edward twisted towards Decim. “Impossible. We’re not-”

“Look around, Edward.” She was walking towards her board, solid steps moving her and her dead weight. “Where are our daemons? Where’s Virginia?”

“But-”

“I knew something was off when we first arrived here but I just couldn’t place it. But they’re gone, just like we are.” She stopped at her dart board. “She’s gone.”

“No.” But he sounded unsure. “Come off it, Marisa. We can’t be-”

“Following their deaths, people are either sent to heaven or hell.” Decim manner of speaking was nothing less than routine. “That is why Quindecim exists, to decide who goes where. However, Quindecim is solely reserved for people of your world that is why extra precaution was taken with the added factor of daemons. It is common for knowledge of their absence to return with knowledge of your death. I apologise for not telling you earlier.”

Edward watched as the bartender fell into a deep bow as if the gesture could lessen the blow of death and, as if experiencing an epiphany, his last moments hit him. The argument. The toppling of the car. Hanging upside down from his seat and moaning as he watched Virginia disappear before his very eyes.

“How could this happen?” A single whisper as he fell to the ground yet again. “How?” He crawled towards the bartender, wrapping his desperate arms around his legs. “You’re The Authority, aren’t you? Tell me how?”

“I’ll tell you how.” Marisa’s voice had returned to her. She’d quietly been pulling out the darts from her board and now had a nest egg of seven darts in the cup of her hand. The red face of the monkey drawn on the flights howled at her in rage. 

“It was you.”

She stabbed a dart into the double bullseye.

“All you!”

Another stab. Another bullseye.

“You. Fucking. Bastard!”

Edward’s screams reverberated across the large space as she stabbed and pulled, repeating the pattern in multiples of seven and taking deep pleasure in his choking yells of pain. Despite this, she couldn’t gain the satisfaction of killing him for he was already dead. Edward had put pay to that. Eventually, she got sick of his screams and gave it up. She turned round and saw him writhing at Decim’s feet, disgusting moans escaping him. Her eyes rose up to meet the pale figure beside him.

“What are you?”

“I’m an arbiter.”

“Arbiter,” she repeated. _Dispute settler, seemed fitting._ He gave her what one year of marriage counselling could never achieve, closure. “I guess you’ve come to your decision.”

The man waved his hand and out of nowhere silvery strings wrapped around Edward’s now foaming body, hoisting him up in the air to sway next to Decim.

“Sorry but I am not at liberty to say.”

“Of course.” She smiled, a sardonic thing, and glided towards the men. “Is he still aware?”

“Yes. He can see and hear everything.”

“Good.” She paused at Edward, her lips resting against his ear. “You know, Asriel was the greatest fuck of my life and I would do it again and again and again just to spite you, _dear_.”

“Will that be all?”

Her head turned to meet the arbiter. A content smile now painted across her face.

“Yes. That will be all.”

They walked in comfortable silence back the way they came, Edward floating behind them from those strange strings. The lift doors opened on their own volition once they arrived and Edward’s body drifted into his lift. 

“It was lovely meeting you, Decim."

“Likewise, Mrs Coulter.”

She entered her lift and rotated on the spot to give the pale, white-haired, tall man one last look.

Decim fell into one last deep bow. 

“Thank you for playing tonight and good luck on your journey.”

With that, the lift doors closed.

* * *

A young woman emerged from the hallway to join Decim by the lift, her features obscured by thin black hair save for a rogue white streak in her fringe. Her eyes rose to the plates at the top of their lifts; the man’s had a white angel while the woman’s had a red devil.

“You sent her hell?”

“I think that was to be expected,” Decim solemnly replied.

“But we saw that it was the man’s jealousy and rage that killed them. Not excluding the fact that he was also driving under the influence.”

“An unintentional murder, I assure you.”

It wouldn’t satiate her. Her gaze fell to him. “But you said he was on track for murder even if this accident hadn’t happened?”

“And she, countless more. Both adults and children.” His eyes wavered between the lift plates, they felt right.

“Well clearly they both harbour the internal evil intentions you wish to pull out with your ludicrous games. I can’t see why you couldn’t have sent them both to hell.”

“That’s not how this works.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then your rules are stupid. Humans are fickle. They change. I could see it in her eyes that she would. He wouldn’t but she would.” She moved to stand between the two lifts hoping that would force Decim to look at her but he continued staring at the plates. “Maybe not now or in the next ten years but one day. It’s unfair to judge someone before they even had the chance to live out their lives and prove themselves.”

His lifeless eyes finally fell to hers.

“Death is not fair,” he stated bluntly. “She died tonight so I must judge her on the intentions she had tonight. As of tonight she held the intention to kill but not to change.”

“Just seems like the whole game was a farce,” she sighed, “you already knew what conclusions you were going to reach.”

“And they were only reaffirmed with the game and it’s end results. Inflicting pain post knowledge of death is a purely evil act.”

“He killed her and her unborn child!” she yelled, her face burning a bright red under her hair. “She had no other possible way to avenge the death of her child now that they were all dead. She’s been condemned to carry that dead weight in her womb as a painful reminder for the rest of her days. Of course she was going to lash out at him.”

“He was suffering enough with the guilt that he had-”

“You know what? It’s not the game that’s ridiculous, it’s you arbiters.” It was the first time Decim had been interrupted all night. “Who thought it was a wise idea to get non-humans to judge humans. You guys don’t even understand the first thing about being human. It’s all just stupidity.”

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I like to write in the dark? 
> 
> Anyway, if you’re interested (which I hope you are), the anime is called Death Parade. And I just realised I tagged it in the fandom section so you probably already knew that. All the proof I need that I have like two brain cells, nice. Check it out still, I think all episodes are available on YouTube. (Here I am… unwittingly doing PR for a random anime *sigh*)


End file.
